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Morgoth would not have held such sway if Targaryens entered the battle! You would not have needed to band together to slay Dragons at the very least. Under our guidance, you would have been able to ride them to war.

[She is outwardly undeterred, but if he looks close enough, she is angry and disconcerted.]

[ He can see it, and doesn't care - the memories roused are scorching, and turning his fury on another is easier. He might feel sorry later, but she stirred the fires from their slumber and he is still his father's son. His eyes are silver bright and his tongue a blade that he wields without caring of the consequences ]

Fool child! Morgoth is a Vala - the mightiest of them all. Only Manwe himself and Tulkas the Strong came even close to besting him, and they are Vala themselves, the builders of the world. You could have no hope of anything except becoming another one of his creatures, twisted beyond all recognition, a thrall to his purpose or food for his experiments. Four hundred and fifty five years we held the siege, and the only harm we did Him was slow Him down. Even our greatest warrior, my poor brave uncle, could do no more than lame him, and only Luthien did any better, and she was half Maia and so
distantly akin to Morgoth in that way.

[Whereas she is the last of a family that is said to give birth to members that are either mad or geniuses. Her father, Aerys, was as mad as they come, committing atrocities against Daenerys's mother that led to many miscarriages. It really is a wonder she came into the world at all with Aerys's assassination, her mother's failing condition and the monstrous storm.]

I do not know these races, but the blood of Dragons runs in my veins. I refuse to be twisted by anyone or anything. I am a Queen and a Conqueror. If a Vala chose to stand against me, I would not bow. My children would stand with me even if we are destined to die.

[She watches him, hesitating. Then:]

You must have long lifespans. I would be exceptionally withered if I even lived to see my one hundredth year.

[ He laughs again, sharp and feral, and the next song from his lips is the Ainulindale, Daenarys swept up into the creation of his world, and the massive forces that birthed it, the ferocious powers of the world at their most raw and elemental, before they took the shapes and forms that the Eldar would come to know them by.

(memory flutters at the edges of the song, of the one time the Valar did act, when Maglor was living, of the earth tearing apart and the seas rising) ]

Race? They are the Powers of the World, Child. And I am Eldar, one of the Firstborn, who are tied to the life of the world, to die as it dies and live as it lives.

[The might is incredible; more than intoxicating - terrifying. Though the young, head-strong Queen tries to keep standing, she is unable and she falls to her knees, fighting for breath. Such power is not within her - nor has it ever been in any Targaryen - but it is around her. She believes it is in her children and they will bring it to Westeros.

That power will aid her in ruling and ruling well.]

You can...never die?

[ He laughs, low and bitter ]

I wish it were that easy. Oh, we can be slain, by blade or poison or grief. But our spirits remain, though our bodies are slain, and so the world wears at us still, until the Valar allow us to return to Life again.

Your Valar sound cruel. [She doesn't want to be that sort of might.] I will rule better than them. Even my children will behave better and dispatch our enemies quickly. They do not torture their food endlessly.

[ The edges of that dark fury fade into something older, something sadder ]

They aren't, not really. They're not like us, this is true. But they love us, as best they can. Even Namo wept, as he foretold our Doom.

Little pity we were promised, but little is not none.

Tears do not save anyone. [A lesson she knows from losing Drogo and her son.] You worship them still? I would rise up against them rather than blindly accept that punishment! If I die in the process or I am imprisoned by them, at least I will have no regrets.

Edited 2017-07-04 04:54 (UTC)

Worship? [ He looks amused ]

Hardly. They are the Powers of the world, but they are not Gods, and only Morgoth ever desired to be worshiped as one. They are ... were, I suppose... our friends and our teachers, our jailors, for some of us, now. But as they would tell you, they are but servants to the One, and He alone is worthy of such devotion.

Is he? [Anyone who lets his creations put such restraints on other creations isn't big on being fair and just in her eyes.] I haven't worshipped the gods of Westeros since I was a child. They did very little for myself and my brother. To rely wholly on them is foolish; we must carve our own paths and hope to find our way through experience.

The One Is. [ Maglor shrugs ]

He is their Creator and ours, the Great Singer who Sang all things into being, the Beginner who Never Began, and then allowed them the freedom of doing their best with His creation. His hand is everywhere apparent, but it is also subtle. Only in Numenor did He ever intervene directly, and then only at the behest of the Valar. For the most part, we are His children, the Valar and the Eruhini, and the price of Free Will is to have to learn on our own.

To learn, to make mistakes, to be punished for it without an end in sight. Does that set well with you? Have you become complacent?

Did I say there was no end? [ Maglor raises an eyebrow at her ]

Dagor Dagorath. The Final Battle. When it comes we do not know, but come it will and must, for Arda is marred beyond healing and only after the End can it be made anew. But until then we strive and wait in hope, but what form that hope will take only Men know, who go beyond the world.

A battle to cleanse? [She can understand that. Westeros will suffer such a cleansing once she, her fleet and her Dragons dock.] Is it strange to look forward to bloodshed? What happens to those who do not survive it?

Yes, and no.

[ He hums thoughtfully, eyes going distant ]

Not even the Valar truly know the End of the Song, although Namo comes closest, maybe. So we don't really know what it will be like. But it is said that at the last, Morgoth will succeed in breaking the doors of Night, and return to Arda to complete the devastation he began, and that battle we call the Dagor Dagorath. What lies beyond that we do not know, but some hold that Turin will return from beyond the world, with the great heroes of Men, to avenge themselves for the years of grief and pain, and Eru will open the leaguer of the Timeless Halls and set aright all that has been Marred. But what lies beyond the Valar forgot when they bound themselves to Arda, and so we do not know. Men might, but they do not return, so none have been able to tell us.

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